Poems or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson |
Upon One pretending to Treat His Wife with a Lobster, and putting of her in Lobspound.
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Poems | ||
Upon One pretending to Treat His Wife with a Lobster, and putting of her in Lobspound.
1
News (Sirs) News from near the Exchange,News indeed, and wonderous strange,
And what makes me the bolder.
It is a story of an Ass,
When Oliver took Horseback, was
His Stirrop-holder.
2
His Wife, whom he suspected Light,He to a Lobster did invite,
But she found no such matter:
114
To treat Her Palate with the same,
Deile a bit, but Bread and Water.
3
Unto an Apothecary,Did the Hosier his Wife carry,
Stockt with neither groat, nor teaster:
Where a Fortnights famishment,
She found, and a lean-jaw'd Lent,
When she lookt for full-mouth'd Easter.
4
Thus this woful, wicked Scab,For a Lobster, gave a Crab,
A Crab that did so claw Her;
Her Husband did it for the nonce,
And tore the Flesh so from her bones,
He scarce cou'd know her, when he saw her.
5
Did ever 'Pothecary think,To Cure her with such Diet-drink?
A cruel, curs'd Cromwellian!
115
Alas good Woman, she was not,
Nor in the least Rebellion.
6
What pitty is it then, that sheShould suffer for his Jealousie;
Whom she had never injur'd:
Because he at Bull-feather Fair,
Had met a parcel of such Ware,
Such Bread, was too much ginger'd.
7
Is this the way to tame a shrow?Believe me, I can't think it so.
No wanton, nor no gadder.
This was a course so curs'd, so sad;
That, if indeed she had been mad?
It must have made her madder.
8
Was this the way he did intend,The manners of his Wife to mend?
I like not such forecasting:
116
That he this roguery design'd,
To find her fresh and fasting.
9
Might I now but have my will,I wou'd throw away my Quill,
And equal to his merit:
I wou'd to a Conduit bring,
This crackt, and craste, horn-mad thing,
And souce Him for a spirit.
10
But He's such a Knave in grain,Water wou'd be spent in vain.
No, no, he has a debtor;
That is an offended Wife,
Will requite him to the life;
And who can do it better?
Poems | ||